


A Glimpse of Stocking

by dont_rainonmyparade



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gardens & Gardening, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Sex, bland times, mostly canon, soft fic, some mild tweaks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29774613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_rainonmyparade/pseuds/dont_rainonmyparade
Summary: Zelda's worked her way up the ladder at JojaCorp, and she's on the precipice of her next big career move when her father dies and her life turns upside down. She's whisked into another life in Stardew Valley, and eventually is forced to choose between the people she's come to love and the life she left behind.
Relationships: Elliott/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Elliott/Leah (Stardew Valley), Elliott/Leah/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Female Player/OC (Stardew Valley), Leah/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Kudos: 5





	1. Zuzu City I

It wasn’t even nine in the morning and Zelda had already been working for three hours. Strolling quickly up towards the front of her office, she didn’t even glance up at its sprawling glass towers. She had been at the company far too long to be impressed by the way it dominated the city’s skyline.

Sparing a wave and a polite smile for the security guard, she badged herself in, her mind already upstairs working on the presentation she was scheduled to give later that morning. As she waited for the elevator, she slipped off her tennis shoes and tucked them into her bag, replacing them with her heels.

As the elevator dinged, she looked down at them, briefly distracted by a scuff mark in the toe. Damnit, how had that gotten there? Never mind, she’d just make Sadie figure out how to get it out before she met with the board members.

In her pocket, her phone rang. Of course it was her boss. His timing was always impeccable. “Hey Quinn,” she said quickly. “Can I call you back in a moment? I’m about to walk into the elevator.”

“Oh, sure thing, Z,” he said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you in your office, k?”

“Sounds good,” she replied cheerfully, and clicked off, hoping she’d sounded more confident than she felt. Days like these always gave her the jitters, no matter how many years it’d been since she’d started at JojaCorp. There was a lot of money they could leave on the table today if her presentation didn’t go well, and the consequences would fall on Quinn’s head. He had taken a risk on her proposal, and she wasn’t about to let him down now; she respected him too much for that.

The idea was simple, she reflected as the elevator took her up and up, overlooking more and more of Joja’s campus as she ascended. A grocery store in every up-and-coming town from here to Calico Desert, not just the places already on the map. Joja didn’t just need to be the delivery solution for cities all over the country; it could be a household name and a true convenience for every family, no matter how remote. With a network, they could move product across supply lines more easily, and expand into new markets.

It was so simple, she didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it sooner, but despite its straightforwardness, it would be an investment the likes of which JojaCorp hadn’t seen since they’d broken into the digital media market. Physical storefronts were the very thing they’d replaced once upon a time, too, so the unorthodoxy of the notion meant that the board was going to need some convincing.

Fortunately, she had convincing in spades. She and Quinn had worked for months compiling existing revenue records and growth estimates, looking for room in the company’s budget for reallocation, and scanning the market for properties they could buy out, as well as creating a strong network of potential investors. It was all going to culminate in today’s meeting, and she was never going to be more ready for it than she was right now.

Quinn was waiting for her on the landing as the elevator finally stopped on her floor. “Morning, Z,” he smiled, offering her a coffee. He combed a hand through his hair, and Zelda smiled to herself. It was his tell - she knew he was nervous. “How are you feeling?” he asked, searching her eyes.

She sensed his genuine concern. “Never better,” she said smoothly, brushing imaginary lint off her suit jacket. “Ready to take on the world.”

He grinned, and his whole face lit up. “With just a little bit of luck, that’s exactly what we’ll have taken, by day’s end.”


	2. Zuzu City II

The board had been deliberating for hours, and Zelda was at her wit’s end. Her nails were a mess from biting them, and for the first time in years, she hadn’t been able to get any work done all day. From outside her office, she could hear Sadie typing, and the noise was driving her up the wall. If she couldn’t manage to figure out how to calm herself down a bit, she was going to have to shut herself in here and just wait it out in the quiet.

What was she going to do if they rejected her proposal? Months of work gone to waste…would there be consequences? Would any of it be salvageable, use-able for something else she had yet to dream of? What would that even be? She moaned quietly, holding her head in her hands. She couldn’t borrow trouble like that from tomorrow, not yet.

Outside her office, she heard Sadie pause. Damnit, her secretary must’ve heard her. She needed something to distract her, before her over-concerned secretary wandered in and noticed the state of disarray she was in.

At that very moment, as if a higher power had heard her, there was a noise in the hall. Zelda scrambled to her feet and nervously smoothed her clothes down, raked a hand through her hair, slipped her heels on, and headed for the door to her office as fast as her feet could carry her - only to collide head-on with Quinn.

He had clearly been headed for her with as much momentum as she had, and being of almost the same height when she wore heels, they knocked foreheads, and each careened backward with exclamations of pain. Zelda stumbled backward and fell against her desk; as her feet went out from under her, she felt one of her heels snap. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sadie startle and clamor to her feet.

“Are you alright, miss?” Sadie asked, her concern heightening the pitch of her voice. “Sir?” she asked, leaning forward over her desk to look at the two of them.

Quinn was holding his forehead and blinking back tears of pain. From across the room, Zelda peered out at him from behind her own hand, holding her forehead and wincing. The impact had hurt, but not as much as her pride. She held her breath, watching her boss. She was utterly mortified - rarely was she this much of a klutz. Such behavior did not suit a woman of her status at the corporation. “Ice, please, Sadie, if you don’t mind,” she said. “For both of us. Quickly,” she added, as her secretary hesitated. A moment later, she scurried off.

Quinn leaned back against the door frame, and massaged the bridge of his nose. Zelda couldn’t see his face as he let out a loud noise that she couldn’t quite place, but a moment later she realized, bemusedly, that he was shaking with laughter.

Somewhat nervously, she began laughing too. “Let me guess,” she said between giggles, blushing. “You have good news and bad news, and the bad news is we’re both concussed.”

Quinn wiped the tears away from his eyes as he shook his head, still chuckling, and gestured at the chair in front of her. “Do you mind if I…?” he trailed off.

Zelda moved to stand, forgetting that she’d broken her shoe, and faltered again as she tried to come to her feet. She caught herself, though, and murmured, “Maybe I’ll just lose these.” She kicked her heels off. They were useless to her at this point anyway, and it wasn’t as though she’d need them around the office anymore.

As Quinn settled in the chair before her, she looked out the window. The sun was setting in the distance, the sky pinking behind the haze of the city. She sighed, turning back to her supervisor. “Are you alright, really?” she asked him.

He brushed a hand across his brow, wincing as he did so, but he nodded. “You really clocked me, Z. I’ll be feeling that one for a good week or so.”

“Likewise,” she retorted with a smirk, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. He was handsome enough, despite the bruise darkening on his forehead. In another life, if they hadn’t been working together, she might have been attracted to him, but as it was, their circumstances dictated that their relationship remain professional. Nevertheless, she often had to catch herself before their gentle back-and-forth ribbing ventured into flirtatious territory.

“Touche,” he replied, leaning back in the winged chair. It was the one he always chose when he visited Zelda in her office, and it was comfortable - the way he felt around her.

“So,” she said, scooting back to sit more solidly on the edge of her desk, folding her hands in her lap over her skirt. “You must have news. Or amnesia, after that collision.”

His lips quirked, and his eyes danced. “Yes, I’d nearly forgotten.” He paused, taking a moment to smile at her, his pride visible. “If I don’t need to take you to the hospital tonight…” he began, raising one eyebrow as he spoke, “I do need to take you out for dinner and a celebratory bottle of champagne.”

It took a moment for his words to register, but as they did, Zelda sprang to her feet, bouncing on her heels in barely-contained excitement. “Quentin!” she exclaimed breathlessly. She rarely used his given name, but the situation called for it. “We got the deal?!”

He grinned, clearly pleased. “ _You_ got the deal,” he replied, steepling an index finger in her direction. “Here,” he said as he stood, reaching into his suit jacket. “I took notes as we wrapped up.” He pulled out a sheaf of folded papers, and spread them out on Zelda’s desk. Some were maps of the local regions, and others were figures and plans, jotted out in Quinn’s careful penmanship.

She turned, leaning over her desk to look at their plans as he began explaining. “The money is earmarked now, and the investors are onboard. The C-levels want us to keep track of a few deliverables, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.” He pointed at a list of items. “These are what they have in mind - mostly to do with advertising and community engagement, and then, when the time comes, with revenue.” He gestured at the maps now, and Zelda nodded along as he pointed out all of the places where they would build JojaMarts - together.

“We have them here, here, and here,” he continued. “Processing and packing facilities with the latest equipment and the largest workforces we can afford. We even got your stretch goal - markets in this archipelago, here. I thought that was dicey, but they went for it. We’ll have to watch it closely…”

Pride welled up in Zelda as he went on. This would be the touchstone of her career, the moment that vaulted her into bigger and more important successes. This was what she had sacrificed her social life for, all those weekends with her family. This was what she’d given up a romantic life for, too. All of that time she could have spent for herself, she’d instead spent pouring into so many jobs, so much money to put into the economy. And she’d done it with his support.

Laughter bubbled up inside her again. “I’m so happy, I think I could kiss you,” she exclaimed, before she could think better of it.

Quinn broke off in mid-sentence and blinked at her, his face unreadable. “What was that?” he asked, sounding strange, almost as if he really hadn’t heard her.

Zelda shook her head, beaming almost to herself as she leaned down and picked up her broken heel. “Oh, nothing,” she replied, fidgeting with the shoe. “I said, I’m so pleased I could almost kiss you.”

A moment later, she felt his fingertips brush hers, and she felt as though electricity sparked between them when their hands touched. He must’ve felt it too, for he started back, and looked down. “I could…” He stilled, and his hand settled on one of the maps splayed out on her desk. Then he met her eyes. “I could kiss you, too, Z,” he admitted.

Zelda inhaled sharply, butterflies doing somersaults in her stomach. She had made a dreadful mistake. She blushed deeply, and she felt the heat in her face. The words were between them now, spoken aloud, and there was no way to take them back. Unless… “Except that you’re like a brother to me, silly!” she exclaimed, shoving him gently. “I was kidding. Figure of speech.” She trailed off.

It was his turn to blush, and a moment passed between them, the air tense, and then he cleared his throat, straightening his tie. “Right,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Must be that concussion.”

“Right,” she echoed softly, and as they quieted, her gaze returned to all of the plans laid on her desk between them. Silence sat between them, and Zelda wondered where the hell Sadie had gotten off to. “Well,” she sighed, “I don’t think my secretary is coming back. What was that about champagne?”

He looked back at her, and his lips curved softly. “My treat.”


	3. Zuzu City III

_Three years later_

“Well, I don’t think that could have gone better,” Quinn said, sounding pleased. He and Zelda were just coming out of a meeting with some of the regional managers of some of their remote territories, and they had all reported solid results, measurable outcomes that would please corporate. “I was so intrigued by some of the strategies they mentioned they’d been using for outreach, for example, the way they talked about canoeing out to the islands and setting up pop-up JojaMarts just for the day, it’s truly ingenious, no one back in Zuzu City would ever have thought of that, it’s just so…something about it is so primitive.” He turned to look at Zelda, but she wasn’t in step beside him where he’d thought she was. He was so excited about everything that they’d learned, he hadn’t even noticed he’d lost her several yards behind him.

She was standing still, looking at something on her phone. She clearly hadn’t heard him, and whatever it was must’ve been pretty important, as she was stopped directly in the middle of the intersection.

“Z?” he called, but she didn’t respond. She didn’t even move - it was as if she hadn’t heard him. “Z?” he repeated, mildly worried. If they’d been in Zuzu City, she would’ve been mowed over by now, but as it was, there were no cars coming in either direction of this small-town main street. When he called out to her again and she still didn’t react, he strode back out to the middle of the intersection and gingerly rested his hand on her shoulder. “Zelda. Are you okay?”

When he used her name, she finally looked up at him. “What?” she asked, looking dazed.

Concerned, he put his arm around her. “Come on, let’s get you out of the road, at least.” He led her over to the sidewalk, playing back the day in his head. Granted, they had been up very early to travel all the way out here, and they had been putting in a lot of long days lately, with their travel schedule - being out in the field could be exhausting, as he knew all too well, and maybe he was running her too hard. They’d been working together for more than ten years now, and sometimes he forgot that both of them had aged since they’d first met. Maybe the job was finally catching up with her. Maybe the years were finally catching up with her.

When they were safely out of what passed for traffic in this town, he let go of her. “Zelda, what’s going on? Are you alright? Talk to me.”

But when she looked up at him again, her eyes were filled with tears. “It’s my father,” she said. “He’s…dead.”

Quinn felt stunned. “What?” he asked quietly. “Z, that’s…I’m so sorry. Did you just…hear?” he asked, and she nodded mutely. “Oh god,” he murmured, and gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly.

She didn’t shake, and she didn’t cry - in fact, she didn’t make any noise at all, but she stayed there, burying her face in his shoulder, totally still.

Gently, he raised one of his hands to caress her hair, combing his fingers gently through her tresses. “I’m going to take care of this,” he murmured. “I’m canceling the rest of our meetings today. We’re taking the next three days off. We’re going back to the hotel, and we’re ordering in, and we’re going to figure this out. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.


	4. Zuzu City IV

It was eight o’clock that night, and while Zelda hadn’t said more than five words since that afternoon, Quinn had watched her eat more chocolate-covered strawberries than he’d thought it was possible for a person to ingest without turning into a strawberry themselves.

She was wrapped in a blanket and sitting across the little table from him, and as she reached for another, she hesitated, offering it to him, instead. He waved her off. “Don’t worry about me,” he murmured, somewhat distractedly. He frowned.

He knew that he ought to be focusing on comforting her, he knew that he was supposed to be strong right now and focusing on the loss of her father, but there was something deeply disconcerting about watching her bite into all of that ripe fruit, over and over again. It reminded him of the last time they’d had dessert together, three years ago. It was the last time because he couldn’t bear to spend too much time around her, afraid that what had been voiced between them that day might yet come back to haunt him.

And it still could. It was very much not the time that he ought to be thinking about how attracted he was to her, and yet…all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her again and hold her close, inhaling her soft scent again, like he had this afternoon. He’d smelled it for years now when she brushed by him, but it was always gone in an instant. This afternoon, the scent of lilacs had lingered, and he wished they’d stayed even longer.

It was hard to be so close to her now, in her space, just feet away from the bed she’d slept in last night, and feel so far away at the same time. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start imagining her in that bed, and wondering what it might be like to crawl in with her tonight, and that was a line of thought he really should not pursue.

Aside from being against company policy, it was deeply unethical, and any entanglement they might enjoy tonight would have countless professional consequences for them both in the morning. But particularly for him, as her supervisor. He watched as she licked a bead of juice off the tip of another strawberry. He frowned again. This was unbearable. He needed to do something before he did something he’d regret.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you sure you don’t want me to try to check the phone book again? See if something’s open?” It turned out that ordering in was more difficult than he’d thought it’d be, in a town this small. And the only thing room service could provide was chocolate-covered strawberries and champagne - the concierge had waggled her eyebrows at him knowingly when she’d disclosed that the hotel was a popular spot for honeymooners - and the only diner in town had closed at three that afternoon. They’d had a substantial lunch, but if he could go back in time, he would have ordered dinner to go. Zelda had drunk a lot of champagne - probably the bulk of the four empty bottles on the counter behind her.

Zelda shook her head at him. “This is…quite good,” she murmured, wrapping the blanket around her more tightly.

“Alright,” he allowed, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He didn’t know the first thing about comforting grieving women, and it was unlikely that he was going to learn in the next few hours. Maybe downing an inordinate amount of chocolate was just part of the process.

“So,” he started again. “Tomorrow, we have no plans. How would you like to spend the day? We can do whatever you’d like.”

She tilted her head to one side, and then the other. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Why don’t we figure that out when tomorrow comes?”

“Okay,” he said gamely, a note of worry twisting his smooth forehead. It was very unlike her to be so flexible. The Zelda he knew was decisive, and always knew what she wanted. He imagined it was part of how she’d gotten so far at Joja. The woman was a veritable force of nature, a hurricane when something stood between her and what she wanted. But all of the energy had gone out of the storm sitting before him. “Why don’t you tell me about your father?” he asked.

But this, too, it seemed, was a dead end. Zelda’s face shuttered, and she placed a half-eaten strawberry on her plate. “It’s alright, Quinn. You don’t need to take care of me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Actually, I do. At least for right now. I’m getting you some water, and you’re taking a shower. Come on.” He rose, and walked to her side of the table, massaging her shoulders over the blanket she was cocooned in. “Where are your toiletries?” he asked. “I’ll go warm up the water for you.”

Zelda wrinkled her nose. “Um, no. You’re still my boss. You’re not rooting around in my suitcase.” With that, she rose, and went to retrieve her shower bag herself.

Quinn stuffed his hands in his pockets, smiling to himself as she shuffled into the bathroom, duvet swishing around her shoulders. He’d gotten her moving, at least.

While she showered, he cleared up the detritus of their evening - he took the bottles of champagne down to the recycling, and despite his better judgment, he did finish off a strawberry or two, including the half-eaten one Zelda had left behind. There was something about putting his lips where hers had been, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

He stood over the sink, recalling the day they’d met. She’d been young, and meek, and eager to please. She’d been walked into his office by his then-supervisor, and introduced as his newest business associate, responsible for chasing down companies who might be convinced to sell their wares through Joja, for the right price. She’d been wearing a yellow dress that day, and it had come to be one of his favorite outfits of hers, through the years, although as time went by and she climbed the company ladder, he’d seen it less and less.

Later that afternoon, on her first day, after he’d introduced her to her team, she’d wandered into his office. He’d asked her to excuse him for a moment, while he wrapped up his train of thought, and she did. But she’d peered over his shoulder, reading the documents he’d had pulled up on his computer. “Virtual machines?” she’d asked, sounding curious.

“Yes,” he’d replied distractedly. “We’re looking at upgrading our servers, and we’re trying to find the best way to do it. Virtual machines, and containers, could be the way to go.”

“Ah,” she’d said, and was silent.

He went back to his reading.

“So,” she murmured. “You want to put JojaCorp’s servers in…stacks of Tupperware, effectively?”

Her question hadn’t registered on his radar at first. But when it did, he turned towards her, mildly concerned about the caliber of person he’d just welcomed to his team. When he looked at her, though, her nose was wrinkled up, and her mouth quirked with barely-restrained laughter. That was the moment he first realized that this young woman was going to be trouble, and not because she wouldn’t be able to do her job. She’d be trouble, because he was going to struggle to keep her distance from her.

As the years had gone by, he’d hoped she would move on to another company, rise up through the ranks somewhere else so that maybe someday, they could be something more than work husbands and wives, but fate didn’t seem to have that in store for either of them. Instead, her star at Joja just rose higher and higher.

And now, here they were, all these years later, closer than ever before and still worlds apart.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t heard the water turn off, but he did hear when the bathroom doorknob turned, and she stood in the doorway, wrapped in her duvet again, looking a bit like how he imagined a goddess might, enshrined in clouds. Her hair was damp, and without the curls it held when it was dry, it fell to her abdomen. Since she was wrapped in the blanket, he couldn’t make out the curves of her body, which was probably for the best. He reminded himself that he was there to comfort her, until it seemed acceptable to leave her alone for the night. She stood there, unmoving, and he cleared his throat. “I, uh, put dinner away.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, still standing there in the doorway.

He raked a hand through his hair. “Can I…get you anything, before I head back to my room for the night?”

She nodded, hesitantly at first, and then more confidently. “I forgot my pajamas in my suitcase. Would you mind?”

He blinked. “Right.” He was trying not to think about the implications of her remark. Did it mean she had nothing on underneath that duvet she’d cocooned herself in again? “Right,” he repeated, and made for her suitcase, deciding to abandon that line of thought.

“They’re blue,” she offered helpfully, but it didn’t matter, because at that particular moment, he’d lost the ability to process color. All he could think about was her standing there in the doorway, dripping wet, naked under that blanket…and mourning her newly-dead father. _Get a grip_ , he thought to himself.

Finally, he stumbled on a piece of clothing that was probably blue, and he rose, turning to meet her back at the bathroom doorway, but he stopped mid-swivel. She had come out, and stood in the middle of the room, her fists curled around the duvet.

“Are these them?” he inquired, trying to keep his tone light, trying to remember that he was her supervisor and that he would still be her supervisor in the morning.

She swallowed, her gaze unreadable. “Yes,” she whispered.

He didn’t know what to say next. It was time for him to leave, he knew, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off her. And then, just when he thought that the night couldn’t get any more surreal, she did the unthinkable.

“Put them on me?” she asked, and let go of the duvet. It fell around her in a rustle, and puddled at her feet.

“Oh, god,” Quentin muttered, and turned away. It was the stuff of his wildest dreams, but unlike in his dreams, he absolutely could not touch her.

He heard her come up behind him, felt her hands on his shoulders. “Quinn,” she murmured, her voice like silk. “I thought you wanted to take care of me tonight.”

He closed his eyes tightly, unable to believe his ears. There was a roaring in his blood, heat spreading through his body, and he clenched his teeth. “Zelda, we can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” she asked, and to himself, he cursed her seeming nonchalance. “I only asked you to dress me.”

He nearly growled as he felt her hands running over his back. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he protested, his careful control wavering.

“Yes, I do,” she countered. “Quinn,” she repeated. “Dress. Me.”

He cursed, low and under his breath. “You’ve been drinking, Z. We aren’t doing this.”

He felt her hands lift away from his back, and he hadn’t realized how cold he felt, in her absence. “How many times are you going to make me ask?” she murmured.

Before he could think long enough to regret it, he turned on his heel towards her, and studiously made eye contact. He took her robe, and draped it around her shoulders, pulling it so that it covered her.

But a moment later, she twisted her arms out from beneath her robe, and rested them on his hips. “Undress me,” she murmured.

It took all of his strength of will to keep looking into her eyes, which were dark with something he didn’t want to name. If he named it, he might act on it. With a gentleness he didn’t know he had in him, he reached out, and gently caressed her cheek. “I care about you, Zelda, very deeply. Which is precisely why I’m going to turn around, go back to my room, and lock my door. We can have breakfast in the morning, and we’ll talk then.” He paused, trying to figure out how to soften the blow. “About…us. If you want to, that is.”

Whatever had been simmering between them for the last three years had come to a boil, and was impossible to ignore now. It was clear to Quinn now that they were going to need to talk about it if they wanted to have any sort of relationship going forward, least of all a working one.

To his surprise, her eyes welled up with tears, and it hurt him, almost more than he could bear, so much so that he almost wanted to take it all back, fold her into his arms, and make love to her until the dawn broke. “You…don’t want me?” she asked.

If someone had asked him in that moment, he would have sworn he felt his heart crack. “No, it’s not that at all,” he murmured, drawing her close and pulling her against him. “I do want you, very much. But not like this. It’s been a long day. If we’re going to do this, Z…we deserve to do it right. Okay?”

He could hear her heart beating in her chest, thrumming against his own, and he held her, much the way he had earlier at the intersection. She pulled back, searching his eyes, and finally said, “Okay.”

He reached for her waist, and pulled her robe more tightly around her, kissing her forehead as he did so. They said good night, and a moment later, he was gone from her room.

But in the morning, so was she.


End file.
